Thoughts
by fool-of-a-Took 247
Summary: Short fic on Albert and Ted's thoughts on each other before WW I. Contains characters from the book as well as film. Warning! Contains themes of alcohol abuse. Wee bit angsty
1. Chapter 1: Albert

**Disclaimer- Anything you recognise doesn't belong to me. All credit goes to the wonderful Michael Morpurgo**

This takes place _before _WW1

**Albert **

He's home again. Shouting. I wouldn't want to be in the house with him right now. Mind you, I never want to be in the house with him. That's why I spend so much time out here with Joey and Zoë.

I can hear him shouting still. In one of his violent moods, I guess. But his voice is slurring. Drunk, again. What a surprise.

He doesn't care. Just doesn't care what his drinking does to him, me, mother, the farm, the animals, any of it. He just doesn't care. Mother says it is because he was in the war and he is worried about the mortgage and the fact that we are losing money and 'blady blady bla'. But it is stupid. If you're stuck in a desert with one bucket of water, you're not going to pour it away because you're worried you might die of dehydration. Any sane person knows that that is counter-productive and frankly stupid. But that's just what he's doing. It's an endless cycle. No money so he worries so he drinks so we have no money so he drinks and so on. I just wish that for once in his life he would actually _think_ before going out and getting drunk.

He doesn't care about the animals either, he works them hard to get money out of stupid bets he makes when he's intoxicated. He nearly hit Joey once. And I know that he has hit Zoë on more than one occasion. He gets so violent. Mother tries to calm him down but 90% of the time, he doesn't listen and just shouts more. I can hear his voice rising now. I can almost see him, gripping the table with his podgy hands to stop himself from falling over. Then getting angry at the world because he's drunk. He can just get so aggressive sometimes.

He apparently cares for my mother and the farm. But I know that he doesn't care about me. He has the cheek to try to stop me from doing what I enjoy, to try to stop me from ringing the bells on Sunday and spending my spare time with Joey. It's so unfair though. The other boys in my class do not work half as hard on their farms as I do. They do not do most of the work on their farms. No, their fathers do it. However, mine has far too bad a hangover to do any of the work so he expects me to do it. He treats me like dirt. I do not know why I just do not climb on Joey and leave this place.

Well, I do. Mother. Mother would never leave him. No matter what he does, she still sticks up for him, spewing all that 'he does care he's just worried. He's had a hard time' nonsense. I stay because of her. But I also stay to see if she is right. To see if my father does actually care.

But I am staying for a hopeless case.

(A/N) Next chapter- Ted


	2. Chapter 2: Ted

**Disclaimer- Anything you recognise doesn't belong to me. All credit goes to the wonderful Michael Morpurgo**

**Ted **

I trudge into the bar and sit down on my usual, wooden stool. A few of the regulars nod at me; others just sigh and roll their eyes. They think I'm stupid. That I'm wasting my money, but they don't know what I do. Don't feel what I do. Don't hear what I do. I throw my money onto the table and wait for my drink. When it comes, I grasp it with both hands and let the coolness of the tankard wash over me.

The pain of Albert's words had crashed into me like waves upon a cliff. I knew what he said was true. And I understood why he said it. But it was the fact that _he_ said it. I know that I am less than worthy of his praise sometimes. But I do try. It's just so hard. He's a good boy. The best. But I find it hard to look after the farm with the constant screaming in my head. All I wanted was a bit more help. A bit more money. A bit more… calm.

I can hear the screams in my head now. I can always hear them. People say time is a healer, but they're wrong. Time hasn't healed the shrieks. No, time doesn't heal. But I know something that does. If only temporarily.

I take a big swig of the alcohol and listen to the screams as they get quieter. Yes quiet is good. I only hit Zoë because she couldn't stay quiet. Only shouted at Albert because he shouted at me. The screams have almost died away. Almost but not completely.

As I down my second tankard, my thoughts become clearer. No longer masked by the shouting. The voices are so quiet now, they could be asleep. Asleep or… dead. No, best not think about that. Another finished drink. And another. And another. Time to get home. Albert will be there. Come to think of it, he probably won't be. No. He'll be away dozing off when he should be working. He never helps. Never helps. He doesn't care. Just doesn't care what his laziness does to him, me, his mother, the farm, the animals, any of it. He just doesn't care.

I stagger out of the pub. As I do, the screams return and I get angrier and angrier. Angry at what the world has thrown at me. Angry at how naïve I was at Albert's age. Thinking that war was some kind of game. That I would be gone and back in a couple of weeks. I never anticipated the horror or the hatred that would be thrown in my face. Never anticipated how loud and painful the screams of the dying would be. Never anticipated looking into a man's eye as the blade of my ally's sword slashed through him.

I push open the door and stumble into the kitchen. Surprisingly, Albert is there. Looking at me with disgust on his face. He's so ungrateful. He doesn't realise what I did to get him living on this farm. He never lifts a finger. Always gets me to do the work. The voices now seem to be urging me on. They're telling me I need to punish him. So I will. I lift my hand. But suddenly everything starts to swim around. That's strange. I wasn't aware things did that. My sight is rolling back and forth. Then again, the world is round. Or is it? Maybe Columbus really did fall off the edge… fall... fall. Hmm? I didn't think the world was upside down. Maybe I should just get some sleep. These tiles seem comfortable enough…

Another day, another headache. However, something is missing. I can't quite put my finger on it. Here comes Albert, he's been working. He's a good boy. But now he's shouting, and the Screaming… its back, they're back. And it's all Albert's fault.

(A/N) This is my first fic ever! I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are welcome but please nothing too mean :)

Pippin


End file.
